Two days later than I planned on posting.
First of all, you all crack me up about the unemployment post. You can’t imagine all the e-mails I got about this. I’m not going anywhere. But it is nice to know that my ramblings are modestly interesting to more than a couple of people.
The weekend was busy. I can now add the title “movie star” to my resume. Well, maybe not movie star, but I was a “featured extra” in one of the films that my son was in. He ended up going from a nice mild-mannered troublemaking kid to a zombie. I got to yell at him in the movie just like I do in real life. The only thing that sucks about being in a movie is that you sit around the set … a lot. Saturday was spent walking around the neighborhood, watching other cast members get progressively more intoxicated, and laughing when my son made faces at people swearing.
At the same time that Junior was taping his movie, the daughters WhiteCoat were having pictures taken for their comp cards.
Then I get a call from Mrs. Whitecoat. Kind of frantic.
“Um, so we were outside taking pictures and a bug flew into Daughter WhiteCoat 3’s hair. I pulled it out and tossed it. Then I looked closer and there was another bug walking across her temple. So tell me … what do lice look like?”
“Kind of like ants with a more elongated elliptical shape to the back part of the torso. No wings, though.”
“Omigod. She has lice.”
Then in the background I hear this loud “Bwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaah” and assorted other guttural noises from my daughter.
“Does … this … mean … I’m going … to starve?”
My wife tried to calm her down. “No, dear. You’ll get some medicine and you’ll be fine.”
“Will my hair fall out?”
“Do I have to go to the hospital?”
“No, dear. We’re going to have to give you intramuscular anxiolytics if you don’t relax, but we have access to the injectable form of those in mommy’s office.”
“Nothing, dear. We’ll take care of it.”
Getting rid of lice in the house is no small feat. We found out that WC Daughter #2 also had an infestation in her scalp. Combs. Lotions. Washing all the bed linens. Washing the clean clothes that were sitting on the bed. Rechecking the hair. Finding leftover bugs. Repeat combing. Every time your head itches, you want someone to look for bugs. I think we’re over that for now. Hopefully.
Then WC Daughter #1 got called for a modeling shoot about 120 miles from home. Nice opportunity, so we accepted.
I got home from work and checked over Mrs WC’s truck to get it ready for the trip. One of the tires looked low in air, so I unscrewed the cap to check the tire pressure. The cap was stuck. So I got a pair of pliers to unscrew the cap. Dumb move. Not only did the cap come off, but so did the valve stem.
The tire wasn’t flat before, but it was flat now. No problem. I’ll just put on the spare.
Well the winch with the spare didn’t work. The damn spare tire was stuck under the truck. No place was open that late at night to fix it.
They had to leave at 5AM to make it to the shoot, so I took all the stuff out of Mrs. WC’s truck and put it into my truck.
Dog had a nightmare which woke us up at 3AM, so Mrs. WC only got a few hours’ sleep.
The next morning, both older kids missed the bus and I couldn’t drive them to school.
I called our mechanic. “Yeah, the winch on GM vehicles seizes up all the time. Have to cut them out and replace them.”
So the vehicle had to be towed to the mechanic. By the time they fixed the tire and the winch in our GM vehicle, we were out $500.
Youngest WC daughter was late to school and today just happened to be the day that they were doing state-required standardized testing.
Then WC daughter #1 started getting the brunt of more bullying. I can’t help but wish bad things on the girls doing this stuff to her. But then something interesting happened. One of the bullies got dumped by the “in” crowd. Instead of making fun of her, my daughter went over to her at lunch and invited her to sit with her and her friends. Initially, her friends objected, but eventually they allowed the bully outcast to sit with them.
While she told me the story, I was proud of her, but I also realized that maybe things happen for a reason. As she moves forward in her education, she has learned that her self-worth doesn’t depend on the opinions of some frumpy little cheerleaders and she has developed maturity and empathy that many adults don’t have.
So it is miserable to watch her go through what she’s going through, but it is also very satisfying to see her transform from a caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly because of it.
Then I get a call from my other job.
“Ummm. Where are you? You’re supposed to be here for an important meeting right now.”
“No. The meeting was for next week.”
“Check the calendar. The meeting is for now.”
OK. Looks like I’m getting dressed up and driving into the city. There go my plans for the day.
Then finally, another little tidbit from Grandpa WhiteCoat.
He’s on the phone with my brother and my niece. My niece is asking him if he’s ever heard of the band “One Direction.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t heard of One Direction,” my brother chimes in?
“One Direction. You know O-n-e D-i-r-e-c-t-i-o-n.”
“Yeah. I know one direction. HELL. Why don’t you go there?”
“Um, your granddaughter is still on the phone.”
“Yeah, well she can be the co-pilot.”
“Nice, dad. Nice.”